


we move lightly

by moonatoms



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, and sore feet, might even constitute as fluff?, there is dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 03:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12832158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonatoms/pseuds/moonatoms
Summary: He is watching her from across the room, she can feel his eyes on her as she moves through the crowd. She is looking anything but graceful, wobbling slightly on the way-too-high heels Maze somehow coerced her into buying as she clutches her champagne flute to her body, careful not to spill anything. Her feet are hurting and she is feeling slightly chilly from the AC and if she is completely honest, she really just wants to go home.





	we move lightly

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
> 
> Many thanks to titC and BurningUpASunJustToSayHello for reading over this for me!

He is watching her from across the room, she can feel his eyes on her as she moves through the crowd. She is looking anything but graceful, wobbling slightly on the way-too-high heels Maze somehow coerced her into buying as she clutches her champagne flute to her body, careful not to spill anything. Her feet are hurting and she is feeling slightly chilly from the AC and if she is completely honest, she really just wants to go home.

 

But that would mean confirming what everyone already thinks: That she is a boring workaholic. It’s not like it is not kind of true. She lives for the days where she can go to bed at nine pm after tucking Trixie into bed. Contrary to what her taking off her top for a movie at nineteen might suggest, she has never been a party girl. It’s gotten worse in the last few years, ever since her separation. She doesn’t really have a lot of friends and over time she has just kind of accepted her role as both a bore and an outlaw. But tonight, tonight is going to be different. Or so she tells herself.

 

So she keeps on walking through the sea of people until she finally makes it to the tables on the other side where she unceremoniously lets herself fall into one of the chairs, taking a big sip of champagne in an effort to suppress the sigh that is threatening to rise up in her throat.

 

They’ve been here for three hours, and he has yet to ask her to dance. She is not going to pretend she isn’t disappointed. She _is_. Things between them have been, good, more than good actually. Gone is the awkwardness of earlier this year, replaced by an unparalleled familiarity and level of trust. Somehow, he has become her best friend, and more than that, too.

 

She likes to think the feeling is mutual. It’s the vibe she is getting from him. Granted, she was wrong about that last time, but this is different. There is a lot more serious talk now. Calling her Chloe. More morning coffee and soft smiles and home-cooked dinners after a long day of work. Less strangers walking in and out of the penthouse at ungodly hours.

 

Oh, and there is the fact that she _knows_ now. It had come as a bit of a shock but then again it _hadn’t_ . It wasn’t like he hadn’t told her before. Multiple times. Or proven that the laws of humanity did not really apply to him. She had just chosen to look the other way. And despite everything, he’s still _him_. Immature and annoying and hyperactive and egotistical and loyal and caring and Lucifer’s Father help her, she is in love with him.

 

She just doesn’t exactly know how to tell him that. She also thinks it is a really, really bad idea to be in love with Lucifer Morningstar.

 

Not because he is the devil. Okay, maybe a little bit because he is the devil, but also because he _is_ him and she is her and most of the time she is actually annoyed at him except when she really isn’t and he can be so sweet but she is also very, very aware of how little experience he actually has with emotions and how bad he is at dealing with them. And she, well, her approach has mostly always been “let’s pretend they don’t exist”. Which, considering she is a single, divorced police detective with no life beyond her daughter and who is quickly approaching 40, is not really working out that well for her.

 

There is a very good chance that if they do this they will eventually implode. Very quickly or ever so slowly, like her marriage. But - and she hates to sound like Linda here - what if they don’t?

 

She is so lost in her thoughts that she doesn’t hear him approach and it isn’t until he comes to stand right in front of her, hand stretched out and a small grin on his face, that she finally sees him.

 

“Shall we?” he asks, voice low and smooth.

 

She takes his hand with a smile.

* * *

 

 

He’s been watching her all evening. When he heard of the cancer fundraiser held by the LAPD, he didn’t think she would go. It didn’t seem like her thing, mostly because she once said it herself. But she surprised him by saying she was going to attend. It had been a quiet, paperwork-filled day and her face was almost shy when she asked him whether he, too, would come.

 

He hadn’t been lying when he said he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

 

They never talked about it, but it was somehow still clear for both of them that they would go together, which he is certain Dr. Linda would attribute some kind of meaning to. But she isn’t here which is _good_ but also _not_ because it means that once Chloe and him got separated, he was somewhat at a loss as of what to do.

 

Not that he had ever had this issue before. He knows what he wants and he isn’t exactly the type of person (or devil) to shy away from it, but somehow, somehow this is different.

 

 _She_ is different.

 

It’s not the way in which her dark red dress hugs every single line of her body. She is absolutely gorgeous but that’s not what makes her so special. It’s that recently, he’s started to notice _more_ about her. The way her lips curve when she smiles, or how her eyes sparkling in the sunlight. The tone of voice he feels is just reserved for him. The soothing calm of her touch on his skin. How her laugh can light up his entire day.

 

It’s cheesy and it’s ridiculous because it’s not _him_ but maybe it is _now_. He’s still Lucifer Morningstar but it’s as if this other part deep inside of him that he buried millennia ago is suddenly becoming alive again and he feels, he wants, he wants so much.

 

He wants this, whatever it is.

 

And the scariest part is not how much. Or that he wants it at all. It’s that they were already here, at these crossroads, months and months ago. And then it all imploded and crumbled. They’ve come a long way since then. She knows. Knows _him_ and who he is and she is still there. Never even left at all.

 

“You’re still you,” she’d said and then she’d hugged him and held him close and he couldn’t do anything but hug her back because he was so used to everyone leaving and it was new for someone to _stay_ and just accept who he is and to seek him out like this.

 

He thought he’d fallen before, but it was nothing compared to this.

 

They talked about everything then and he told her, told her that his father made her for him. That her free choice was an illusion. It was the first and only time during their entire time that she got truly angry. Angry at him for making that decision for her.

 

“It was you who took my choice away by leaving,” she’d said. “I don’t like you because I have to. I like you despite all of the reasons I probably should not. I like you because you’re you.”

 

They’d fought and she’d yelled and he’d yelled and then he’d apologized and they had made up and it had been the start of something new and maybe they can be something _more_.

 

Maybe they already are. Their relationship goes beyond partnership and friendship and they both know it but somehow the timing just hasn’t been right yet and somehow they are both afraid to make the first move after what happened last time.

 

But he’s tired of this, he’s tired of waiting and being in limbo. It feels like all of his life he has only ever been _there_ and they are _here_ tonight and she’s looking absolutely _breathtaking_ and maybe a dance can be the first step.

 

It takes him a while to convince himself it is, but he finally asks her to dance.

 

And she accepts.

* * *

 

 

He is standing so close, she can feel his breath on her skin. She hopes that he doesn’t notice her shivers and she hopes that he does. There is something about the way he is holding her tonight that’s different to any other time before. It’s not only the complete absence of any space between them. It’s the weight of his hand on her shoulder that feels different and the outline of the smile that stretches across his lips and up to his eyes. He is holding her as if he never wants to let her go. And when she leans forward to rest her head in the crook of his neck, she hopes he knows she’s here to stay.

 

They don’t talk as they dance. There are too many words and there are not enough for everything they should talk about. And it isn’t until the music stops that they even realize how late it is.

 

He chuckles at the look of slight shock on her face and she glares at him but there’s no force behind it. When they move towards the exit he surprises her by taking her hand.

 

And then they are in his car and it’s just them and he’s looking at her like _this_ and she can feel her heart beat rhythmically in her chest.

 

“Do you…,” she starts and then trails off, eyes cast downward for a second before they meet his again. “Do you maybe want to talk somewhere?”

 

He nods.

 

“Your place?,” he asks but she shakes her head quickly.

 

“Trixie is there,” she explains when he gives her a confused look. “And Maze...I…”

 

She takes a deep breath, exhales softly.

 

“Maybe Lux?,” she finishes her thought and his lips curve into a little smile.

 

“Of course,” he replies and starts the car.

* * *

 

 

The drive to Lux is silent as they both try to organize their thoughts. They know they are on the cusp of something here, know that this is their chance to do it right and neither of them wants to screw it up.

 

When they finally reach the penthouse, he looks at her, the hard lines of his face smoothed out by the soft lights.

 

“Wine?“ he asks quietly.

 

She shakes her head. She has already had too much champagne and she wants a clear mind for this. He nods almost imperceptibly and leads her over to the couch. They settle on opposite ends of it, the distance both welcome and oddly discomforting.

 

For a minute, neither of them speaks. They don’t even look at each other. Finally, she lifts her head and lets her eyes meet his. They’re dark, darker than she has ever seen them, but there is a softness to them, too and she realizes then that in this moment, she is not looking at Lucifer Morningstar, the devil, but at who he was before. Before his fall and everything that followed.

 

She takes a deep breath, lets the air fill her lungs.

 

“I…,” she starts speaking and then trails off again when she realizes she doesn’t even know what she wants to say.

 

“I’m not good at this,” she confesses quietly and he doesn’t reply, just nods because they both know he really isn’t good at these things. Talking. Emotions. The whole jumbled mess of it all.

 

There is another beat of silence and finally she can’t take it anymore because it’s been _months_ and they are both sitting _here_ and they clearly want the same thing.

 

“Screw it,” she says and then, before he even has the chance to react she has already launched herself at him and she’s kissing him and it’s nice, it’s _really_ nice. It’s more passionate than their kiss on the beach and totally different from what she imagined in her (many) dreams because this is _real_ and it’s soft and he’s so warm and when he wraps his arms around her she feels _safe_.

 

They break apart way too soon but she’s smiling and he’s smiling too and she’s missed this giddiness, this feeling of lightness that comes with being exactly where you want to be except it’s never been like _this_.

 

She leans forward again but he stops her and she scrunches her face in confusion.

 

“Shouldn’t we talk?” he says and she almost laughs then because it’s like their roles are reversed.

 

“In a minute,” she replies because while they do have to talk this is nicer and she really just wants to keep kissing him.

 

So she does and this time he doesn’t stop her.

* * *

 

 

Later turns out to be much later lying on sinfully soft Egyptian cotton sheets with her head pillowed on his chest and his arms holding her close. She is feeling a little dazed and happier than she has in a long time. At the back of her mind she can feel all the little doubts and questions rising up and she knows they’ll have to address them at some point soon, but she just doesn’t particularly want to right now. Right now she just wants to be warm and comfortable and _happy_.

 

Turns out his thoughts are a little more impatient than hers though because after a minute, she can feel him start to fidget underneath her and she turns her head to catch his eyes.

 

“What is it?” she asks, all the joyous feelings momentarily replaced by the dread that somehow, somehow he regrets this.

 

He doesn’t reply and she can feel the doubts start to get louder and what if, what if, this is what she gets for thinking she could be _happy_ for once. The air around her feels constricting suddenly and she has to get out of here, she has to -

 

A hand on her arm stops her just as she is getting up.

 

“Wait,” he says quietly. “I just...what now?”

 

“What?” she asks, not entirely sure what he is getting at and not sure she even wants to know.

 

He takes a deep breath.

 

“I’m not good at relationships,” he concedes and she nods because, well, it’s the truth. He isn’t, but she doesn’t exactly have the best track record either if she is being completely honest. The knots in her stomach are starting to ease though because it does not sound like he is regretting it at all and that’s good, it’s all that matters really because the rest, the rest they can work out somehow.

 

“And I want to do this right.”

 

He looks down for a second after his confession and then back up at her and the look on his face is so unlike him, almost shy even and she can’t suppress the smile that rises up and up inside of her until it reaches her lips and her eyes.

 

“I want to do this right, too,” she whispers, the light and giddy feeling from earlier back in full force and she can’t help but lean down and kiss the dazed expression off his face and of course it doesn’t end there. He reaches up and pulls her closer and before she has had the chance to react he’s already turned her and he’s kissing her again and again and _oh_ -

* * *

 

 

It’s a while before either of them speaks again and when she does her voice is soft and raw and full of what she knows to be the truth.

 

“We’ll figure it out,” she breathes into the air around them. “We will.”

 

He doesn’t reply, but there is a light smile playing around his lips. And even if she knows that he is more worried than her about his father’s plan and the future, even if she knows that he trusts even less than she does, his smile tells her that he too wants this enough and has enough faith in this to have the hope that it will all work out.

 

And she hopes that one day he’ll be able to believe it, too.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Part two: an overdue foot-rub (jk but Chloe probably does have very sore feet ;))
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Have a lovely Sunday!


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